by Mark Pepper
‘Oh. But it’s okay now?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t worry.’
Larry nodded. ‘Is she awake?’
‘Yes. Laura opted for a spinal. Better for the baby.’
Laura. He hadn’t even known her name.
‘And how is she ... in herself?’ Larry asked.
‘Really very distraught. But that’s not unusual for a woman who’s been looking forward to natural childbirth at term, then finds herself undergoing a major op, suddenly and prematurely. You’ll need to keep a close eye on her in the next few months; this sort of thing can be a contributing factor in the onset of post-natal depression.’
‘Fuck, really?’
Haslam’s expression showed he didn’t quite understand Larry’s need to curse. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said.
Physically carved up and emotionally screwed up. That was the wife Larry was handing back to DeCecco. He swore again.
‘However, let’s not worry too much about that now,’ said Haslam. ‘This should be a happy time for you both. Please, go through, say hello to your son.’
‘Uh ... no, I’m not the father. I told the nurse at the desk. I’m a ... family friend.’
‘Ah. I see. Well, would you have ............. have we met before?’
Larry recognized the doc’s facial set: thinking eyes and a vague smile that wasn’t sure of its ground. He’d seen the same look maybe a hundred times since his own face had been plastered across the TV news following the disastrous drugs bust; a niggling familiarity some people just couldn’t pin down. Was he an old buddy? A minor celebrity?
‘I don’t think so,’ Larry said. ‘What were you about to ask?’
‘Uh ...’ Haslam had to mentally backtrack. ‘Oh, yes. Would you have a contact number for Mr DeCecco?’
‘He’s a cop. Works Hollywood. You’d need to call the station.’
‘Okay.’ That look again. ‘Are you an actor?’
Larry found Haslam’s question bitterly amusing. His laugh was more of a yelp.
‘I wish I was. I wish you were. I could ask for a fucking rewrite.’
After the introductions had been made, John recounted his tale of 1978. Marie stared at the carpet the whole time and John wasn’t sure if any of it was getting through. He gave Dodge a worried glance.
‘Marie?’ Dodge said.
‘I’m listening, carry on.’
So John jumped to 1990 and the Gulf and how he met Donnie who linked him to current events. Then Virginia shared the telling of their trip to Oregon and the items they’d discovered that bound them all together.
Marie finally looked up, her eyes moist. ‘May I see the letter I wrote, please?’
Dodge unlatched the case and gave her the letter from inside. Marie put on a pair of spectacles, took it from the envelope and opened the pages.
She quickly stopped; too quickly to have read it all. She slipped it back in the envelope and removed her glasses with a vexed sigh.
‘I know what it says. Every word. I’ve not forgotten.’
John saw the undiminished pain in her eyes. Her anguish seeped like sweat from every pore. Suddenly, she made a face as though her pain was not just emotional.
‘Marie?’ Dodge said.
It passed, and her features returned to normal.
‘I’m dying,’ she said. ‘Cancer.’
No one said anything. Marie got up and opened a sideboard to produce a large brown bottle of liquid morphine. She took a swig and sat down with her medicine.
‘So what’s your interest in my daughter?’ she wanted to know.
Dodge didn’t answer verbally. He went to the suitcase again and handed her the letter he had written to Chuck.
After reading it, she looked at him.
‘So you do want to tell her war stories; how her father died. Is that for her benefit or yours?’
‘You’re most intuitive, Marie. Let’s just say I have a vested interest.’
‘No, let’s say rather more than that. If you want to see my daughter, I want to hear everything.’
Reluctantly, Dodge began to detail his years of psychological torment, culminating in the episode at the range. John hoped it wouldn’t queer his chances of meeting Hayley, but knew Marie had given him no choice. When Dodge finished talking, Marie studied him for several seconds.
‘Well, you don’t make a very good case for yourself, do you, Mr Chester? How can I be sure you won’t come unhinged when you see my daughter?’
‘I won’t. Why would I? And please call me Dodge. Do that for me, at least.’
‘All right, Dodge. Perhaps you can tell me what happened in nineteen sixty-nine. I was never told; just that Harry was killed in action.’
Suddenly nervous, Dodge put a hand to his brow, which popped instant perspiration. ‘I’m not sure I can.’
‘This is what concerns me,’ Marie said. ‘What’s in you that doesn’t want to come out? And will it be dangerous to my daughter?’
Dodge looked to his own daughter for reassurance.
‘Dad, you can do it. Coming back from the hospital you were about to talk. Why not now?’
‘This is ...’ A flick of his eyes towards Marie said the rest: different.
‘Whatever you tell me, Dodge, I won’t blame you,’ Marie said gently. ‘If Harry died saving your life, then my only feeling is pride in his actions. I don’t hate you for sitting here now instead of him.’
Dodge smiled gratefully. He blinked, and spilled two wet tracks down his cheeks. He wiped them away and there were no more tears. He calmed himself with a deep breath, and began.
‘We were a six-man team, one of many being inserted along the edge of the mountain range from Leech Island north to Camp Evans. Harry was Team Leader; I was ATL and forward observer; Randy Moraga was radio operator; Greg Bloch, Dan Schroeder and James Benedict were the riflemen. Benedict was a cherry, his first time out, at least with us.
‘We were tasked with monitoring NVA infiltration from the Roung-Roung and A Shau Valleys towards the coastal plain, chiefly Hue and the military bases around Phu Bai. If we encountered a significant force we were to call in a fire mission on their co-ordinates. As it was a free-fire zone, if we came across any smaller units it was left to the discretion of the TL as to whether we engaged; higher-ranking NVA sometimes carried sensitive documents.
‘Early afternoon we boarded our slick and lifted off with two Cobra gunships as escort. I remember it was a Tuesday. Extraction was set for oh-nine-hundred Friday, unless we were compromised before that time. When we got near the LZ, our pilot did a couple of feints to confuse any spotters, then we all un-assed onto the ridge. The chopper went off into a wide orbit a couple of klicks away in case we needed immediate extraction, and the team laid dog for fifteen minutes.’
‘Dad?’ Virginia interrupted. ‘Laid dog?’
‘Sorry, Namspeak. Finding cover to listen for enemy presence. Thankfully our LZ wasn’t hot. I shot an azimuth to check we were in the right place, then we called in a sitrep and moved out to find a good NDP – that’s a night defense position. We had to be secure before dark. We descended the ridge towards the valley floor, moving slowly to minimize noise. The jungle below was dense double-canopy, but as we dropped down through it we saw a narrow trail at the base of the ridge. Twenty meters above it Harry signalled for us to stop. He wanted to set up an OP for a while – an observation post. An unused trail grows back pretty quick; this one was trampled bare. No vegetation. A lot of foot traffic had been through, and recently. Harry didn’t like staying so close to our drop-off point – neither did I – but he reckoned the trail was worth monitoring. We found cover and stayed there for a couple of hours, but saw no movement on the trail so carefully edged down and crossed it one by one, disappearing into heavy brush on the other side. We’d all seen the tracks in the dirt.
Couldn’t have been more than thirty-six hours old. We called in our observations and a little later the relay team radioed back to say our Six – our company comman
der – wanted us to stay there for the next twenty-four hours. So we set up a perimeter of five Claymores and concealed ourselves ten meters back from the trail. We organized security for the night, a rotating two-man watch every two hours, and waited for dark.
‘The night passed without incident. I remember it was pitch black – no moon. You could hardly tell if your eyes were open or shut. Morning came and we took turns to eat chow, then began trail-watching. You’ve no idea how boring that is, you almost yearn for some contact to break the tedium.
‘There was nothing the whole day. With dusk approaching, Harry gave the order to ruck up and move out. We pulled in the Claymores and policed up our patch, leaving it the way we’d found it. We’d stay off the trail but flank it; see if it forked someplace further along. If not, we’d set up another NDP and keep another blind watch through the night. If there was still nothing by the next morning, we’d use our remaining time to check out the rest of the valley. That second night was uneventful. Until shortly before dawn.’
Dodge appeared to catch his breath.
‘Dad?’
‘With hindsight, we should have kept a closer eye on the cherry. Turned out Benedict had popped too many Dexedrine trying to stay awake, and too many Dex tabs had a habit of making people crazy. Hallucinations, wild behavior ...’
Dodge paused again, long enough this time for John to prompt.
‘What happened that morning, Dodge?’
‘We had thirty unfriendlies appear on the trail right in front of us. Maybe Benedict was so wired he found himself looking at a bunch of winged demons. I don’t know. What I do know is they sure weren’t searching for us because they were way too noisy. Had we kept our heads down they would have passed us and we could have brought some arty down on them further along the trail.
‘But Benedict lost it. He clacked one of the Claymores and opened up on them. We had to follow suit. Hit hard and fast, then E and E. We blew the other Claymores and let rip with everything we had. Those we didn’t kill ran off down the trail, but as the Fifth NVA Regiment was rumored to be in the area, we didn’t wait around to see how many came back. We radioed for immediate extraction from our original insertion point where we’d signal with a mirror. It was safer than having to pop smoke and alert the enemy to our position.
‘The climb back up the ridge was tough and the cherry kept dragging ass, having completely flaked by then. Harry and I had to physically haul him up the hill. Then we came under attack. The rest of the team gave covering fire and we finally got Benedict onto the ridge. Miraculously, we hadn’t taken any hits, but we still had to wait for our extraction ship to show. By that time we’d been told the inbound Huey was only five minutes out, but with no Snakes riding shotgun because it wasn’t our official bird. Some pilot returning from delivering a consignment of Coca-Cola to one of the camps had heard our distress call and figured he was closer than anyone else. That’s what you call a hero. He didn’t need to respond. He was piloting a supply ship; he was totally vulnerable. If he got downed, we’d still have an extraction, we’d just have to wait. But he must have figured we didn’t have that luxury so he risked his life coming in for us.
‘Anyway, we found some cover, a hollow in the ground, and waited. Well, those five minutes felt like a lifetime, and the enemy arrived before our ride home. The NVA crested the ridge and opened up on our position. Only four of our team returned fire. Moraga had his hands full keeping the cherry from standing up and getting his head blown off. The NVA continued to close in, and I swear it looked like an entire regiment was swarming towards us.
‘When we heard the rotor blades we decided to pop smoke; there was nothing left of the mission to compromise. The slick flared above us and dropped down. We were on-loading when I got hit, then Benedict. I knew the kid had bought it but I didn’t want to let go of him. Not realizing what had happened, the pilot pulled pitch. The skids lifted off but we were still standing on them, and when he dipped the Huey’s nose to gain speed, we both fell off.
‘I’d have understood if Harry had gotten the rest of the team to a safe distance, waited for the Cobras to arrive, then come back for us. The alternative was to risk the lives of everyone on board that Huey by getting the pilot to set it back down. But Harry chose a third option. He jumped off – from a good twenty feet in the air. The ship was taking serious hits so he waved it away. He dragged us to a safe spot, then single-handedly engaged the enemy, keeping them back for just long enough.’
Dodge stopped talking. The story wasn’t finished, but any one of them in that room could have brought it to its conclusion. Fittingly perhaps, it was Marie who did so.
‘The Cobras got there but Harry was already dead.’
Dodge nodded. ‘He got hit by possibly the last round the NVA fired before the gunships cut them to pieces.’
Hiding in the men’s washroom did not fit with Larry’s longstanding image of himself, but it had also finally dawned that the man inside didn’t always match the one the world saw strutting like a Storm Trooper. Having kept a watch on the hospital parking lot, Larry had seen DeCecco arrive in a black-and-white, tires screeching, roof-bar strobing. In fact, he had heard the siren long before the car appeared, and DeCecco wasn’t alone. Another car was following, a black unmarked Caprice, with a red strobe flashing frantically just inside the windshield. Out of this second car stepped Captain Gilchrist, and, even from several floors up, the little contretemps between he and DeCecco was easy to read. The body language was plain. Gilchrist was trying to get his officer to calm down. Which left Larry in no doubt that Doctor Haslam hadn’t called the station, Laura had. A post-op, pissed-off Laura.
The washroom was only a temporary sanctuary. Larry had decided it would not be policy to greet DeCecco before he had checked his wife and kid were okay. He didn’t relish saying hello at all, but he had to face the music at some point. He still harbored hopes of rectifying matters with as many hurt parties as possible.
He opened the door a crack and spied DeCecco and Gilchrist emerging from the elevator. They weren’t talking. DeCecco went to enquire at the desk while Gilchrist took a seat. One of the nurses produced a calming smile and showed the concerned father through a set of swing doors.
Watching this, a profound sadness struck at Larry’s heart and made him feel sick with regret that he and Hayley were still childless. That, like everything else, was his fault. He had never really wanted kids, and he guessed he had brainwashed his wife into thinking she should do without them herself. Or maybe he had just silenced the words she always wanted to say to him by constantly using her career against her. What if Hollywood calls and you’re six months gone? Thus the time had passed until their relationship reached a point where their feelings for each other could no longer support the idea of parenthood. And now Hayley’s age made even trying a doubtful and risky proposition, and, anyway, who was he kidding? The leap of imagination required to take him from cowering in a crapper, friendless and hated, to making love with his estranged wife was too mammoth even for his warped mind.
He closed the door, leaned against it, closed his eyes. He felt faint. His stomach was empty and the smell of the room was only adding to his nausea; harsh chemical cleaners that did not quite banish the reason for their use.
Then the door hammered against his back – someone trying to get in. He stepped to the row of basins and pretended to adjust his hair. The door opened and Larry found himself staring at the reflection of his superior officer, who did a faintly amused double-take at the sight of his subordinate.
‘Ah, the infamous Larry Roth,’ said Captain Gilchrist, and shook his head. ‘Shit, you must be even dumber than I thought. If I were you, right now I’d be a million miles away from Joey DeCecco. He’s after your blood and he’s not listening to me.’
Larry was strangely touched, which said a lot about just how friendless he felt.
‘You don’t want him to hurt me?’ he asked.
‘Well, there is that. But mostly I don’t want
another messy crime scene to clean up – not after the other night.’
Larry opened a faucet, bent down and splashed water on his face. Gilchrist waited until he straightened up.
‘Roth, what the fuck were you doing following Laura DeCecco?’
Larry pulled some tissue from a dispenser and dried himself and turned round.
‘Ask your star rookie. Or let me guess: you did that already and he’s given you jack shit.’
‘I know there’s something going on between you two.’
‘Yeah, we’re lovers.’
Gilchrist peered at him. ‘You’re pretty cocky for a dead man.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘When Laura called Joey and said she was okay but she was in the hospital and you were there ... Christ, you should have seen him, he went ballistic. You know, I don’t think you’re in his good books. In fact, I think I might be all that’s standing between you and a round from his Glock.’
‘That’s kind. I accept your sacrifice.’
‘Oh, I’d duck, believe me. But tell me: how have you gotten Laura DeCecco so scared she’ll go into premature labor at the sight of you?’
‘Who says it’s my fault?’
‘DeCecco. He’s in no doubt.’
Larry decided to throw Gilchrist a morsel in the hope he might back off a little.
‘I was just trying to clear up a misunderstanding, okay? It’s not police business. It’s personal.’
‘Bullshit. I think it’s to do with your Armenian slaughterfest. It was DeCecco knocked you out cold, wasn’t it.’
‘I slipped.’
‘Internal Affairs don’t believe a word you’ve told them.’
‘Well, it’s my story and I’m sticking to it.’
Oddly, Gilchrist smiled. ‘You know, I like Joey – a lot more than I ever liked you – but I’m at that stage where I just don’t give a crap any more. You can both go your own sweet way. Six months, I’ll be gone. Nice fat pension, sell up and move to Wyoming. Mountains, rivers, fresh air. Good riddance, LA. No more sleaze, drugs, smog, homicide or assholes like you. It’ll all be a distant memory.’